


All the Folks that I Know

by Sassaphrass



Series: We'll Meet Again [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Losers (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But everything else still happens, Gen, Hostage Situations, Jake Jensen is Steve's Grandson, Misunderstandings, Mostly Fluff, Movie Watching, OLD!Steve, Steve and Bucky are BFFs, Steve doesn't get the serum, and when they say forever they mean FOREVER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, what the hell is going on here, Granddad? I need an explanation for the violent one-armed hobo that seems to be living with you.” </p>
<p>Jake Jensen wanted to surprise his Grandfather with a visit, in retrospect he should have called ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Folks that I Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of an ongoing AU where Steve didn't get the serum, lived a full life and randomly has an unaged Bucky turn up on his doorstep. The major events of MCU happened but someone else is Captain America. 
> 
> Jake Jensen is a Special Ops soldier specialising in coms and tech for those unfamiliar with the Losers. This is Jake: http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/11500000/Jensen-the-losers-11568870-1919-792.jpg
> 
> Jake Jensen is the only character from the Losers that appears in this fic and the events of the movie are only referenced. However, since he's the main character here I figured I'd tag it in the Losers Fandom anyway. For the purposes of this fic the Losers have beat Max and are back to their old lives at this point. 
> 
> Warning: Jake isn't always nice and at one point does something that could be interpreted as Elder Abuse, but Bucky steps in so it's okay.

Jake realized that, in retrospect, climbing through Grandpappy's window to surprise him with a visit when he got home from visiting Grandmama at the hospital was just maybe a bad idea.

 

It's hard to remember that the adorable old man who seems to have a near obsessive preoccupation with good manners, is the same guy who once jumped on top of Richard Nixon's car in order to try and force the man to give an interview. In short, he hadn't considered the type of security measures Grandpappy might have put it place.

 

So, as he climbed in through the window via the fire escape it was completely unexpected to be brained with something very hard and very heavy.

 

When Jake came to he was staring at a very handsome and mildly tormented face that for once was not attached to one of his squad members but to a very distraught guy about his age with long dark hair, who looked like he was going to burst into tears. Also, Jake was tied to one of the kitchen chairs, and while he could totally get free (Special Forces bitch!) he could not do so without wrecking the chair. And damnit, Grandpappy loved these ugly chairs.

 

“Oh me god. Was there a home invasion? Do you have Grandpappy stashed in a cupboard somewhere? GRANDPAPPY!!???? GRANDPAP-” the young man gasped and then covered his mouth with both hands. One of which was robotic. Huh. Jake actually had to stop talking for a minute while processed this.

 

“You're Jake?” The guy asked. Jake nodded. The possible home invaders eyes filled with tears. “Steve's going to be so mad at me” he wailed. Unfortunately the future wrath of the nonagenarian was apparently not enough of a deterent to make said home invader untie Jake.

 

Instead the home invader sat across from Jake and kept looking like he'd accidentally smushed a kitten or something.

 

So, Jake did what Jake did best : he talked.

 

“Now, Mr. Home invader you're going about this is a very unusual way. One, you know my name which is odd I have to say most people who are home invading don't bother learning the names of their victims grandchildren unless you somehow got wise to my career in which case wow man good research ethic there and on the other hand you seem to have a perfectly respectable fear of the Wrath of Rogers which seems to indicate if nothing else that you've met the charming prune that is Grandpappy and have enough self preservational instincts to wish to avoid an encounter with an enraged miniature old man not to mention the fact that-”

 

“I'm going to wait for Steve in my room.” Tall dark and metallic muttered before positively fleeing.

 

“HEY! HEY!!! Home invader!!! HOME INVADER YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE ME HERE!!!”

 

Fortunately, Grandpappy came home in just a few minutes. Which makes sense since Jensen had timed his arrival so he'd be through the window approximately 15 minutes before Grandpappy usually returned from the hospital.

 

But, Jacob Jensen had never been very good at sitting still or shutting up.

 

When Grandpappy opened the door Jake couldn't help but scream “GLORY HALLELUJIAH!!”

 

There was a pause and some laboured breath and finally FINALLY Grandpappy peaked around the corner.

 

“Oh Hell.” he sighs. “I really should leave you there as a lesson not to break in to other people's houses...”

 

“Let me out Grandpappy!! Please?”

 

Grandpappy sighed and looked towards the bedrooms. “Did you frighten him off?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The uh, person responsible for this?”

 

“He said he was going to his room. AND WHY DO YOU HAVE A ONE-ARMED VAGRANT LIVING WITH YOU?!”

 

“I can have a vagrant move in with me if I want! I needed some help around the house and...”

Grandpappy just shook his head and wandered (oh so slowly) out of the kitchen.

 

There was the sound of a door opening, and then a long pause and finally some soft voices in another room and despite straining his ears, Jake couldn't hear what they said.

 

Then Grandpappy returned walking just as slowly. He stood in front of Jake with his arms crossed and a disproving glare. “You broke in through my _window?!_ ” he hissed. 

 

Jakes shifted uncomfortably. “I was thought it would be a fun surprise visit type of thing?”

 

Granddad looked like he might be sick, and glanced back towards his bedroom. “He could have killed you.” he whispered in horror.

 

“WHY DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE WHO COULD KILL ME LIVING WITH YOU?!!!”

 

Granddad sighed again. “He needs help and I can't just turn him out onto the streets.”

 

Jake considered that. “When you say you can't...”

 

“I don't mean that he is in some way preventing me from doing so. I mean that I will not.”

 

“Oh. Are you going to untie me?” Jake said pasting on a grin.

 

“It would serve you right if I didn't. Upsetting my guest like that.”

 

“He brained me with a- what did he hit me with?”

 

“A fire extinguisher.”

 

“He knocked me out with a fire extinguisher as my Granddad shouldn't you automatically be on my side!!?”

 

Steve just stared at him for a minute before getting a knife from a drawer and starting to cut the ropes.

 

“I do wonder where he got these from...” he mussed as he fussed with the ropes. Which, okay, not a comforting thing to hear.

 

Finally freed, Jake stood up and enveloped his granddad in a hug.

 

“Okay, what the hell is going on here, Granddad? I need an explanation for the violent one-armed hobo that seems to be living with you.”

 

Grandad looked nervous. “Please keep in mind that two years ago New York was invaded by aliens and a year before that Captain America was pulled from 70 years on ice still alive.”

 

“If you're trying to reassure me of your mental state this is not helping!”

 

“Okay, just. Grab the red album from the chair in the sitting room and bring it here.”

 

Jake got the book and set it on the kitchen table. He's seen this one before. It's mostly pictures from the war and the early years of his grandparents marriage.

 

Grandad only opened it to the second page. One picture is already missing but there's another that Steve points to.

It's Grandpa as a tiny little young man grinning next to a taller guy about the same age with dark hair and a big smile. They're squinting a bit as they stare into the sun but both of them are instantly recognizable.

 

“Oh. Shit.” Jake pointed at the dark haired guy “Who is that?”

 

“Jame Buchanan Barnes, I called him Bucky. We grew up together. He was declared MIA, presumed dead in 1943 after a skirmish in Italy.”

 

Jake stood up and walked back and forth a couple times. “But he's sleeping IN THE GUEST BEDROOM!!!”

 

Grandpa shrugged. “Yup.”

 

“He hasn't-” Jake sat back down again and steepled his fingers. “What is he doing here? That arm of his looked damaged you should send him to the hospital.”

 

“No, hospitals are a bad idea.”

 

Jake stared at his grandfather in horror. “Please tell me you didn't steal him from a secret government lab.”

 

“No! He just may have some people who are looking for him.”

 

“What did he do?”

 

Grandpa grimaced and muttered “He may have been responsible for the death of Captain America.”

 

“WHAT!!?! Are you NUTS?!”

 

“He's  _family_ Jake.” 

 

“NOO!!!  _I_ am family. He just looks like somebody that you used to know. It might not even be him. Have you thought about that? I mean, look at me and Johnny compared to you. It's probably a scam or something.” 

 

Grandpappy smacked Jake across his shoulder. Hard. Jake totally did not scream like a girl and hop away from him.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes was my best friend. When I had  _nothing_ . I had Bucky.” Grandpappy was wagging his finger in Jake's face and his own was dark with rage. “And I will remember your suggestion that I leave him in the wind because he's had a hard go of things the next time you call begging me to put a good word in for your CO.” he hissed. 

 

Jake stared at his grandfather in shock. He'd never seen the man truly furious before (except maybe when Bush got re-elected. That had been an interesting day.).

 

“Ah hem.” someone interrupted.

 

Jake turned to see the violent hobo standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking supremely uncomfortable.

 

“I'd like to apologize...for hitting you with the fire extinguisher and tying you to a chair.” He stared at his feet for a moment.

 

“Ummm....” Jake felt a sharp kick to his calf delivered by Grandpappy. “That's okay man, just like, don't do it again.”

 

Mr. Vagrant, no, Bucky, nodded and then glanced at him. “You really shouldn't break inta people's homes though. Someone might shoot you next time.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Noted.”

 

They stared at each other awkwardly for a minute before Bucky nodded, and shuffled off in the direction of the sitting room.

 

This was too much for Jake.

“Grandpappy, we need to have a talk! In _private_ ” He all but screeched.

Steve glared at his grandson and crossed his arms. “I do not like your tone young man.” He replied icily.

Jake grabbed his grandfather's arm and lifted him bodily off the floor ignoring the man's protests and was about to drag him down the hall to his office when Bucky reappeared. Large arms crossed over a broad chest and a look that didn't need to kill because the rest of him could do it just fine.

 

“Put. Him. Down.” he growled.

 

Sheepishly, Jake released Grandpappy's arm and put him down.

 

“Do that again and I will crush your skull like an egg.”

 

Mutely Jake nodded vigorously. Grandpappy (very slowly) walked over to Bucky and patted him on the arm. “No need for that old friend. He's just a rather rude young man. He didn't mean any harm.”

 

Bucky glared in Jake's direction but once again disappeared into the sitting room.

 

Jake guiltily glanced at his grandfather. “Sorry.” he mumbled.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?”

 

“I apologize for grabbing you. It wasn't right and it was rude and I'm sorry.”

 

Grandpappy pursed his lips and said. “You're lucky your grandmother isn't here.  _She'd_ have shot you.” With that he turned and marched off towards the study. 

 

Jake groaned and threw his hands up before following.

 

Grandpappy's office had always had a near mythical aura as far as Jake was concerned. Whether it was here at the apartment in Brooklyn or back in the big house in DC which Jake only vaguely remembered, Grandpappy's office was special. It was, in his mind, a magical place, full of books, filling cabinets and polished dark wood.

 

Jake was trying very hard to hold on to that feeling as he sat down in what felt a bit like a war room. There was a thought map on the wall, pieces of paper connected with bits of string and sticky notes, piles of old files were lumped around the desk.

 

Steve sat down and looked at his grandson. “Jake, I need your help with something.”

 

It felt like the bottom had fallen out of Jake's stomach. Grandpappy was usually your average grandparent, stuffy, complaining about new music and fashion, but nice, and willing to walk over hot coals for his grandkids. He was your average grandpa right up until he did something completely insane.

Jake still remembered the time he'd had to bail the man out of jail because he'd tried to punch the bishop of New York in the face, or maybe it had been a papal legate? Anyway, there is something particularly cutting in the humiliation of having to explain to your army buddies that your leaving the much anticipated night off base to bail your grandfather out of jail.

 

Jake was getting the same sort of feeling now.

 

“Jake. I'm going after SHIELD with everything I have. I'm going to need your help.”

 

And there was the hammer dropping.

 

“No. Look I get it. They hurt your friend, they destroyed the poor guy. I'd be out of my freakin' mind if they did that to any of the guys in my team, I mean, even if it was Roque I would be on the warpath man, and I know you've got this whole 'pen-is-mightier-than-the-sword' schtick that works for you, it does, but man I have been to war with the goddamn CIA and let me tell you this require guns seriously big guns and it didn't end well even dead, you forgotten I'm officially dead? Like Grandpappy....Man. No.”

 

Grandpappy looked like he was cursing Jake's sudden but inevitable betrayal.

 

“I need you to set up a website. I'm putting it all online. I'm writing a book too but I don't think it can wait.”

 

“What, WikiLeaks SHIELD Edition? Grandpappy-” Jake tried to protest.

 

“You know they never got into SHIELD. I've been inside from the start. My best friend founded it, my wife ran it. You think I didn't know things? You think that they didn't have to come and tell me not to follow a lead, not to pursue a story? They'd convince me that the greater good was more important, but, I know where the bodies are buried. I-”

 

He slammed a thick brown-paper file down onto his desk.

 

“I want them to have to face what they've done.” He smacked the file again with his fist. “There is nothing that justifies this nothing.” The old man looked like he was going to burst into tears.

 

Gently Jake reached out and picked up the file. It had both cyrillic and Roman alphabets on the cover. He opened it up to see two picture of the same man. One was probably relatively recent, he was sleeping, or dormant, it was taken through a window that was frosted with ice and his skin had a faint blue tinge, the other was a familiar looking snapshot from the forties of a handsome young man in his brand new sergeant's uniform.

 

Awed he began to flip through the file. Any Russian page was accompanied by a handwritten translation on lined paper. There were technical terms and clinical detachment, but there was no doubting the story that was being told: this was how they tortured a young soldier until he forgot his own name and would do whatever they asked. There were more photos in there, pictures from surgeries, pictures of equipment, crime scenes shots. It was gruesome.

 

“Grandpa...where did you get this?”

 

“I have someone in SHIELD whose helping me.” he replied.

 

Jake shook his head and put the file down. “Look, this is terrible but there are worse things going on, I don't know that this will do what you want.”

 

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. He seemed, for the first time in Jake's memory, defeated. “I don't care. I'm publishing every dirty secret I know about SHIELD. I'm writing a book on the agency. You can help me or you can let me do it alone.” He gazed at Jake over the rims of his glasses.

 

Jake took off his own and scrubbed his face. “Fine. I'll help with the website. But that's all man.” He shut the file. “I'm not getting shot for this, because there are worse things you know. Way worse things, but I have some files of my own I've been sitting on, you can add them to the website, might cover your trail a little bit if the assasins come knocking, and I'm pretty sure once you publish this-” he slid the file back to his grandfather “they'll be gunning for you.”

 

Steve Rogers crossed his arms and raised his chin. “Let 'em come.”

 

Jake shook his head and wandered out of the office into the living, wait no, sitting room. The pet assasin in question was sitting very straight on one of grandma's prized antique chairs with a large book opened on his lap.

 

“Whacha got there slugger?” Jake asked.

 

The one-armed bandit looked at him blankly before lifting the book up to show him the cover.

 

“Oh, Grandpappy's first book, about his experiences on the front. He's got another ya know, written in the midnineties about how the world war became a defining narrative of American culture or some such thing. I never read it but I read that one. It's fun. I like the bit where Granny tries to shoot him.”

 

The assassin blinked once and then shrugged. “I don't remember war being like this.” he said softly.

 

Jake felt a deep twinge of sympathy. He had a point, Grandpappy had been a kid when he wrote that first book, fresh from the wars and it was halfway the bizarre tale of his courtship of one Peggy Carter through the theatre of war and halfway a wild tale of heroism and adventure as it recounted Steve's many wild war stories.

 

Jake's wars hadn't looked much like that either. He sat down across from Bucky.

 

“Ya know you remind me of my friend Cougs. He's in my unit. Man of few words, like yourself. Don't mess with the little mexican man, he will fucking cut you. You were about ready to break my face earlier so I bet you can relate. Look, I don't know if your even capable of doing this but, try and talk Grandpappy out of this okay? This is some serious shit and I get that he's like old and will probably die soon anyway-” he pauses when realizes the guy's eyes have started overflowing with tears. The man hasn't moved a muscle, there's no hitch in his breathing but the tears are just pouring down his face.

 

“Jesus man, I'm sorry, I know he's you bosom buddy and all but you do realize he is like, ancient right? He'll die someday and I'd rather it be quietly in bed than because someone shot him through the wall-”

Bucky sort of convulsed forward at that. He held his head in his hands and his whole body shook.

“He can't die. I...he says I can do it.” Bucky whispereed hoarsely. “I shot a man through the wall on my last mission. I want to be a person again but, I can't do it on my own. I can't stop him, I'd always tell him not to pick fight b-” he sat up suddenly, “If they come for Steve I'll shoot them first.” He says it like it's a simple solution to the problem, like he only has to decide that that is what he'll do and it will come to pass. Jake almost believes him. Almost.

 

Steve shuffled in a minute latter and frowned to see Bucky looking so distressed. He shot a glare at his no good grandson who held up his hands and protested his innocence loudly and lengthily.

 

Steve ignored him and sat down next to Bucky (very slowly). “Cheer up pal, it may never happen.” He waved a hand at Jake. “Put on an old movie. Something good.”

 

Jake sighed dramatically. “Your definition of good is very different from mine Grandpappy.”

 

“Mister Smith Goes to Washington.” Bucky suggested.

 

They both stared at Bucky and he looked nervous and uncomfortable under their scrutiny but clear his throat and repeats himself.

 

“Mister Smith Goes to Washington. I remember you liked that picture. Made me go see it half a dozen times I'm sure.”

 

Jake sighed again, even more loudly and dramatically. He hates that freakin' movie, but dutifully goes and pops it in the DVD player that is artfully concealed in the cabinet.

 

“I refuse to be subjected to this schmaltz again.” he loudly declared to the room.

 

Steve smiled at him. “That's quite alright. Make us some dinner would you? There should be some potatoes in the pantry and I put some steaks out to defrost this morning.”

 

Jake protested dramatically but goes to turn the stove on anyway. He fries up the potatoes and steak and divides it up into three portions. He carefully tried to balance all three plates in his hands as he walked back out.

 

On screen Jimmy Stewart is standing at the Lincoln Memorial. Grandpappy looked to be about to doze off, but Bucky was leaning forward completely engrossed in the story.

 

Wordlessly Jake handed the man a plate, and set another down in front of Grandpappy, who it seemed actually was asleep. Jake considered waking him up but the old guy probably would make them go eat in the kitchen and Jake doesn't have the heart to tear Bucky away from the movie.

 

Jake, in a rare show of restraint, manages to get through the rest of the movie without talking. As Claude Rains confesses to his crimes and Jimmy Stewart's unconscious body is carried from the Senate in honour, he noticed that Bucky looked furious.

 

His face was white and his knuckles were white and he was gritting his teeth.

“That's not how the story really ends!” He all but screamed.

 

Jake frowned. “Pardon, my one armed compatriot?”

 

“He would never have confessed he'd just how let poor Joe- he'd have let them-” Bucky seemed like he was having trouble breathing. Jake handed him a glass of water but Bucky grabbed it up with his metal hand and it shattered almost instantly.

 

Jake looked at the credits rolling across the screen and then at his sleeping Grandfather.

 

“That's how the story's always ended for Grandpappy.” Jake repliesd. Bucky seemed to be calming down and he looked at Jake questioningly.

 

“You and me, we...” Jake tries and for the first time finds himself unable to find the words. “You and me we know how that story would really end, so we don't bother trying to be like that but Grandpappy... He just keeps trying anyway.”

 

Bucky shook his head and reached out to tuck a lock of white hair behind his best friend's ear. “He's a dumb punk.” he replied.

 

Jake d and shook his head. A one armed assasin, a war on SHIELD and trying to talk said one-armed bandit down from a freak out caused by what Jake has always considered a suprememly boring movie?

 

Next time he's totally going to call before he comes over.

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a 1939 Frank Capra film, about an idealistic and patriotic young man who discovers corruption in the Senate and tries to stop it. The climax is when he fillibusters until he literally collapses on the floor and one of the villains, overcome with guilt, confesses everything. 
> 
> I figured a young Steve Rogers would have liked this film for obvious reasons.


End file.
